“Exactly,” Picard said. He knew as well as Kirk did that the Remans had warbirds to guard their orbital processing platforms, and those ships were staffed by Reman soldiers who served in the Dominion War. “We can outrun them to Romulus.”
Kirk’s shoulders squared for battle and Picard’s instincts told him why. For too long, Kirk had been a starship captain, a man whose every word was respected, whose every order was immediately carried out. He was unused to taking part in arguments he could not win simply by claiming command authority.
“We don’t have clearance for Romulus,” Kirk said angrily. “And given the relationship between these two worlds, how do you think the Romulan government is going to respond when they find out we’re carrying the Shinzon who’s someday supposed to free the Reman slaves?”
Picard nodded, no argument possible. “You’re right. We’re a civilian ship. They’d blow us out of space. Worry about the diplomatic repercussions later.” He glanced at La Forge beside him, Crusher at the other end of the small cabin, could see that both of them were silently urging him to break Janeway’s orders and bring Kirk into the full mission.
Picard hesitated, weighing his options.
That hesitation did not go unnoticed.
“What’s going on, Jean-Luc?”
Picard stood to face his friend. “Jim, I respect you too much to say ‘Nothing.’ Or ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Obviously, there are other considerations at work here.”
The cold fury that leapt into Kirk’s eyes surprised Picard.
“When you asked for my help, did any of you know what the Remans wanted with my son?”
The awful betrayal that drove that question made Picard’s heart ache for Kirk. And made him eternally grateful that this was at least one question he could answer with absolute honesty.
“No, Jim. On that you have my word. We all expected to be on Romulus now, investigating Spock’s murder. No one—me, my crew, the planners at Starfleet—none of us had the slightest thread of information to suggest the Remans would become involved.”
Picard could see that Kirk was replaying each word he had spoken, as if searching for the smallest indication of falsehood.
” ‘Other considerations,’ ” Kirk said in an ominous, quiet way. “Starfleet desk jockeys, you mean. Putting me in this position. Putting my son in this position.”
Picard hadn’t thought it would be possible to feel any worse about having lied to Kirk. Now he regretted ever agreeing to Janeway’s plan.
“Jim…” Picard began, trying to find a way to bridge the divide between them.
But Kirk shook his head with an angry snap. “Just don’t. Don’t say a thing. I asked Janeway point-blank, and she denied to my face that there was a third mission. I asked you, and you lied to me, too.”
“Need to know, Jim. Operational security.” Picard hated each word as he spoke it, but there was nothing else his orders permitted him to say. Wisely, La Forge and Crusher remained silent, adding no more fuel to the incendiary standoff.
Kirk made fists of his hands, tried to pace but there was just no room. “Even now…” Whatever else he was going to say was swallowed by a harsh laugh of disbelief. “All right…you needed me on this trip. You thought maybe Joseph would be protective coloration. After all, what sane father would risk his own son in a covert Starfleet operation?”
Picard remained silent, let Kirk say whatever he needed to make sense of the terrible decision he was facing
“And now you’re asking,” Kirk continued, seething, “if there’s anything I can imagine doing that will let you continue your primary mission to Romulus.” Kirk pointed his finger at Picard. “Getting my son the hell out of Romulan space. Now.”
Picard straightened his jacket, mentally seeking as he did so some way to keep the dialogue going, even though he knew he could not accept Kirk’s terms. “The Calypso can probably outrun the ships in this system. But we’d be at risk of interception before we reached the Neutral Zone. And our primary mission to Romulus would be lost.”
But Kirk shook his head. “No. You keep the Calypso. You keep your mission. But the other thing you do is get the Titan in here to take Joseph out.”
La Forge whistled, which was as an effective way of commenting on the impossibility of Kirk’s request as anything Picard thought he could say.
“Problem?” Kirk asked sharply.
“Several,” Picard reluctantly said. “And they’re significant.”
“That’s not the right answer, Jean-Luc.”
Picard prepared to make one last attempt to follow Janeway’s orders, before taking the initiative himself.
“Jim, the Titan is on a diplomatic mission to Latium Four.”
Latium was one of the first Romulan colonies to be established by the fledgling empire. To limit the number of potentially hostile ships traveling to their home system, the Romulans had established Latium IV as a centralized location for alien trade and diplomatic missions. It was far easier to obtain clearance to travel to Latium than to Romulus. So Starfleet had created a minor diplomatic inquiry to justify Will Riker’s presence only ten light-years from Romulus.
“That’s less than ten hours away for the Titan,” Kirk said. “And that’s why she’s there, isn’t it? To come to our rescue?”
Picard knew this was as far as he could go. One more chance. “To come to our rescue, Jim. To save the mission.”
Picard waited, in hopes that Kirk would seize on what had not been said.
“You mean, to save the mission, but not my son.” Kirk’s voice flattened, as if the anger and betrayal roiling within him had suddenly given way, too great to exist. “Damn you.”
With that, Picard knew he had gone far enough. Janeway had given her orders under one set of circumstances, but those circumstances had changed. So the orders must change, too.
It was time to tell Kirk everything.
Picard reached up to the upper bunk, pulled his civilian communicator free of the folded blanket there just as the annunciator chimed, followed by a familiar knock.
“That’s my son,” Kirk said.
He opened the door and Joseph barreled in, hugging him wildly, excitedly saying, “Daddy, Daddy!”
McCoy remained out in the corridor, giving Picard a shrug as his comment on Joseph’s inexhaustible supply of energy.
“Slow down, son,” Kirk said quietly.
Joseph broke away from his hug, looked around at the others crowded into Picard’s cabin. “Is the ghost here?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“The ghost?” Kirk repeated.
“Seems the ship is haunted,” McCoy volunteered. “We’ve been looking for ‘the ghost’ on every deck.”
Kirk tapped Joseph on the nose. “What did I tell you about ghosts?”
“There’s no such thing,” Joseph said. “Except on this ship.”
“We take the blame for that,” Crusher said before Kirk could ask his son to explain. She got up, went to Kirk and Joseph. “He heard us talking in the galley, thought he heard another person.”
“I did,” Joseph insisted.
Kirk glanced at Picard, and there was no question that the gentle acceptance he showed his son did not extend to Picard and the others. “Did he?” Kirk asked.
Picard snapped the battery cover from his communicator. “Not exactly,” he said.
The Calypso shuddered.
Everyone in the cabin braced themselves. Kirk pulled Joseph close. Instinctively, they waited for some indication that the problem was due to the artificial gravity, which would be an inconvenience, or due to collision, which would be a disaster.
Scott’s voice came over the PA system, shouting over bridge alarms. “All personnel t’ the bridge! A cloaked ship has just grappled onto our hull!”